A Distant Memory

by Traci DePree

  “Is Brad here?” Kate asked. “I brought some dinner.” She lifted the Crock-Pot that she held with mitten-shaped hot pads.

  “The kids will love that.” Judy stepped back and motioned for Kate to follow her into the house. Kate breathed in the heavenly scent of chocolate sweetness as she stepped inside. “Brad and the kids are still out with search and rescue. I’m manning the house in case Sonja calls or comes back.”

  It was the fourth day since Sonja had disappeared, and Kate wondered how many more days they would keep looking.

  Kate followed Judy to the kitchen, where Judy bent to pull a sheet of cookies from the oven. Kate set the Crock-Pot on the counter, slipping her hands out of the mitts.

  “I thought I’d try to add a little normalcy to their lives,” Judy said as she set the pan on a trivet and reached for a spatula. “Can I get you something to drink? There’s soda, iced tea...”

  “Tea sounds great,” Kate said. She pulled out a chair and took a seat. She’d been curious about this woman ever since she’d seen her with the Weavers that first day, and now was the perfect opportunity to get to know her a little better.

  Judy moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a sweating pitcher of tea from its depths. Then she retrieved two glasses from a cupboard and poured a drink for Kate and another for herself.

  “So you and Sonja have been friends for a while?” Kate asked as she took a sip of her tea.

  Judy smiled and scooped the hot cookies onto a cooling rack. “Sonja and I have been best friends since first grade. I don’t know what it was about her, but she always felt more like a sister to me. We did everything together—made mud pies, double-dated—everything. We still do.” Her face fell a fraction, and she took a moment to regain her composure. “She and Brad moved to Copper Mill from North Carolina in part to be closer to me. My husband left me last year, and well...” She shrugged. “They were the ones who picked up the pieces. Brad’s like a brother, and the kids call me Aunt Judy.”

  Kate smiled gently. “I noticed how close you are.”

  “Sometimes we don’t have close families,” Judy said, “so we find family where we can.” She pointed to the cookies. “Would you like a warm one?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Kate said with a wink.

  Judy seemed like a genuine person, deeply caring, sincere. Yet she and Brad seemed too close, Kate had to admit, almost like a married couple themselves. She chose to brush the thought aside. She knew herself well enough to realize that conspiracy theories came far too easily sometimes.

  “So...,” Kate said as she tasted a cookie and sat back in her chair. The chocolate was soft and gooey, and the cookie practically melted in her mouth. “How are the kids coping?”

  Judy sighed. “Not well. Becky has been spending hours alone in her room, and Brian takes off with friends...But who am I to judge? It’s bad enough that they lost their dog...and they can’t even really grieve over that when their mother is still missing. It’s not fair.”

  Kate had to admit that Judy was right. Nothing about this situation was fair, least of all for Becky and Brian. Or for Sonja herself.

  PAUL CLOSED HIS HEAVY CONCORDANCE that lay on his office desk at church. He glanced up at the wall clock and realized it was almost suppertime. He’d been so engrossed in his studies that he’d completely lost track of time.

  He stretched when he heard the sound of the outer door open and close. Millie had long since left for her afternoon job at SuperMart in Pine Ridge, so he knew it couldn’t be her.

  “Hello,” he called out.

  His door opened a crack. “Is this a bad time?” a woman’s voice answered.

  Paul craned to see who it was. Finally he recognized Caitlin Evans, Bobby’s wife.

  “Caitlin.” Paul straightened in his seat, motioning for her to come inside. “This is a surprise.”

  Caitlin reminded Paul of Kate as a young pastor’s wife. Rather pretty, yet not conceited, she was a hands-on woman who seemed to care deeply for their congregation. She was also a talented artist and a wonderful mother.

  Paul pointed to the chair across from him, and Caitlin sat down. The young woman lifted her brown eyes and scanned the wall behind Paul. She looked serious, troubled.

  “I was hoping you’d be here,” she said, drawing in a deep breath.

  Paul realized that she was nervous and waited for her to continue.

  “I, uh...,” she said, “I was hoping you could help me with...” She paused, clearly uncomfortable. “I wanted to talk to you about Bobby.”

  “Oh?” Paul shifted in his seat.

  “I don’t know how to begin exactly...” Caitlin tucked her long brown hair behind one ear.

  “Start in the middle, the beginning, wherever you want,” Paul said. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  Caitlin smiled and drew in another deep breath. Then she began in earnest. “Bobby loves his job. If anyone was meant to be a pastor, it’s him.”

  This wasn’t news to Paul. He’d seen the younger man’s ease with those he served, his genuine compassion, his words of wisdom at their pastoral roundtables. And Paul had heard the man’s inspired sermons at several ecumenical services.

  Caitlin went on. “Lately something’s changed.” She let out a small sigh. “I mean he’s still a great pastor, but to be honest, I’m really worried about him.”

  Paul leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk as he recalled Lucas mentioning that Bobby looked thinner. Was Bobby suffering from a physical ailment?

  “He works constantly,” Caitlin said, “obsessively. He doesn’t take time for himself, much less me and the kids.” Her voice broke. She looked Paul in the eyes. “I didn’t know who to turn to. I mean, our church would probably think his devotion to them was a good thing, but...”

  “He’s out of balance,” Paul finished her sentence for her.

  Caitlin nodded. “He’s not eating. He doesn’t sleep much.”

  “He’s been skipping our pastors’ breakfasts too,” Paul supplied.

  “Yeah,” Caitlin agreed. “You see, the church board has this idea to expand, maybe hire a youth pastor. Then the woman who used to coordinate vacation Bible school stepped down. He’s been putting in long days doing all that preparation himself, plus making sure that every member of the church is served, doing visitations several times a week...” She exhaled a long sigh.

  During the course of his career in the pastorate, Paul had seen several pastors who, feeling threatened by such changes within their church bodies, turned into superheroes, only to burn out and leave the ministry altogether. He would hate to see that happen to Bobby.

  “Do you think he’s feeling insecure about his place in the church?” Paul asked. “Like maybe he’ll be replaced by a youth pastor?”

  Caitlin seemed a bit startled by the question. She sat back and thought about it for a moment before answering. “That might be, though whenever I bring up how much time he spends away from home or how worried I am about him, he doesn’t want to talk. Just insinuates that I’m being selfish, that I need to put others first.” Caitlin lowered her head as tears formed on her lashes.

  “I understand where Bobby’s coming from,” Paul said, dipping his head to meet her gaze. “But you have every right to need your husband, including the best of his time and attention, not the leftovers.”

  That comment seemed to push Caitlin completely over the edge. Her shoulders shook, and she cried in gulping sobs, finally pulling a tissue out and wiping at her cheeks. When she lifted her reddened eyes, she admitted, “I was afraid you’d tell me I was...” Her words fell away.

  Paul stepped in, his heart hurting for her. “Trust me, I’ve been where Bobby is right now. And I’m sure Kate could tell you a few stories about waiting for me to return to my senses during those times.” He paused, and Caitlin released a gentle smile.

  “I feel like I’m at the end of my rope,” she said, “and he’s not listening to me. That’s why I came here. I was hoping you
might talk to him.”

  ON TUESDAY KATE HAD RISEN EARLY as usual to spend time in the Word and prayer. God had been teaching her to rely on him, especially when understanding was lacking.

  Judy’s comment about how unfair the situation was for the Weavers had stayed with her. Why would God allow this to happen to the already struggling family? Brad had lost his job several months after moving to Copper Mill, and then Sonja was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s...and now she was missing, the worst news of all. As Judy had rightly said, it wasn’t fair.

  But God never promised fairness as a benefit of being his child. If anything, it was just the opposite. Jesus himself had been treated unjustly, and yet he never spoke a word in his own defense.

  No, Kate realized anew, God wasn’t about fairness. He was about redemption, about bringing new life from death.

  They had yet to see the fulfillment of that promise in this situation. And perhaps they never would here on this earth. But that was what faith was: trusting in the One who knew far better and loved with an infinite love, without needing an instant answer.

  Later that morning, Kate was bustling about the Bixby house kitchen, helping prepare Faith Freezer meals for the town’s shut-ins and less than fortunate. Betty Anderson, owner of Betty’s Beauty Parlor, had taken the morning off to volunteer, and the two were chatting as they worked. Betty was pulling a pan of chicken from the oven when Kate’s cell phone rang. Kate stopped chopping ingredients for a tossed salad and rushed to get the phone out of her purse, wiping her hands on her apron as she went.

  “Brad asked us to stop by after lunch,” Paul said after Kate answered.

  “Sounds ominous,” Kate said, glancing at Betty.

  “I don’t think it’s good news,” Paul agreed. “Can I pick you up?”

  “Sure. I’ll keep praying for them.”

  When she disconnected the call, the expression on Betty’s face said she’d guessed that they were talking about the Weavers. The forty-five-year-old’s gray eyes shimmered with empathy.

  “It’s so sad,” Kate said as she reached for the stack of divided Styrofoam containers and counted out the correct number for the day’s deliveries. Betty did the same for the hot food—potatoes and gravy with chicken and green beans.

  Betty was scooping mashed potatoes as she said, “It was a total surprise to me when they said Sonja had Alzheimer’s.”

  Kate looked up as Betty went on. “She came into the salon every three weeks to get her roots touched up, and I never once noticed anything out of the ordinary. You know? She always seemed normal, very much there.”

  Kate paused to consider the observation. She’d felt the same when she’d heard the diagnosis. The image of the vibrant mother with the wide smile struck with Alzheimer’s—it still didn’t seem right.

  Betty continued, “Though I have heard that agitation is a sign of Alzheimer’s, and she was very agitated the last time she came in.”

  “What was she agitated about?” Kate turned to her.

  Betty started ladling gravy onto the mashed potatoes. “Something about an argument with her husband. From what she said, they’d been fighting a lot recently, ever since he lost his job...” Betty’s words trailed away, and she turned to finish dishing out the meals.

  “When exactly did he lose his job?” Kate asked. Paul had told her about that, and she knew that Brad was job hunting, though she hadn’t heard anything about marital strife.

  Betty shrugged. “Early February. They’d just moved here in August, so you can imagine the stress that put on the family to be without an income all of a sudden.”

  “I’m sure that’s been really hard for them,” Kate agreed.

  “Yeah,” Betty went on. “From the few times we talked, I got the impression that Sonja and Brad had their fair share of problems.”

  Kate quickly steered the conversation to another topic, not wanting to move into gossip. Though the information that Sonja and Brad had been arguing was something no one had mentioned.

  Could their marital strife have been a trigger that sent Sonja to the woods that day?

  WHEN KATE AND PAUL ARRIVED at the Weaver home that afternoon, the long driveway was lined with cars, including the sheriff’s SUV. Kate hadn’t been able to shake Betty’s words about Sonja—both about Betty’s surprise at the Alzheimer’s diagnosis and about Sonja confiding in Betty about marital problems.

  The thought occurred to Kate that perhaps Judy had something to do with that. Kate returned to her earlier impression that Judy was awfully close to Brad and the kids. Without a job, had he perhaps leaned too heavily on their good friend? Kate had no proof of that; it was mere speculation. Or had Brad become resentful for having made the move to Copper Mill only to lose his job and his security? Maybe he blamed Judy for encouraging them to make the move only to face the new hardships. Regardless of the source of Brad and Sonja’s strife, it was a heartbreaking situation, and Kate sent up another prayer for Brad.

  Paul knocked on the front door, but no one answered for several long minutes. He peeked through the narrow side windows to get a glimpse inside.

  Becky finally opened the door. She looked tired.

  “Oh, hi,” she said.

  “You holding up okay?” Kate asked.

  Becky shrugged. “I suppose.” Then she motioned for them to follow her into the house.

  In the living room, several teenage boys clustered around Brian in a mass of gangly awkward comfort.

  Becky led Kate and Paul to the kitchen at the back of the house, which offered a view of the parklike backyard. The morning mist had lifted with the day’s rising temperatures, and in the distance was a panorama of tree-covered hills in pale and darker greens.

  Brad and Sheriff Roberts were in the adjoining family room alone, seated across from each other on the leather couches.

  “Thanks for coming,” Brad said as Kate and Paul joined them. The expression on Brad’s face was tense, and Kate saw how his back stiffened when he met his daughter’s eye.

  The doorbell rang again, and Brad turned to Becky. “Can you get that, Beck?”

  She gave her father a pleading look but left to answer it.

  Brad turned back to the sheriff. “I thought it might come to this, but I don’t want to believe it.”

  “She’s been gone since Friday,” Sheriff Roberts said, though the expression on his face was one of understanding. “There’s just no way she could have survived.” He shook his head.

  “She could have found shelter...,” Brad began.

  “If she had enough presence of mind to do that, why wouldn’t she have come home?” the sheriff asked. “There’s no evidence that she left the park, since her car was still there. And the dog...”

  Brad sighed, conceding the point. He placed his head in his hands. Paul laid a comforting hand on Brad’s shoulder, and Brad sank slightly with the weight of it.

  “What if she’s still out there somewhere, waiting for us to find her?” he said, then he turned pleading eyes to Paul. “Paul, tell them they can’t give up yet.”

  Sheriff Roberts spoke before Paul could answer. “Maybe I’ll be proven wrong. There’s nothing I’d like more than for that to happen. But we’ve hit a dead end.”

  Brad lifted his face to the ceiling and blew out a long breath.

  “And Willy Bergen?” Brad added. “What about him?”

  “He was two miles away from the search area. Plus, he said he didn’t hear anything unusual,” the sheriff said. “I have no reason to doubt his statement. Mrs. Jenner didn’t hear anything either.”

  Brad closed his eyes and took a ragged breath. Kate’s heart ached for the man.

  The sheriff finally rose to take his leave. He placed his hat back on his head as he added, “Brad, if there’s anything, any tidbit of information that proves otherwise, I want you to know that we’ll be all over it. I’ll reopen the search right away.” Then he glanced at Kate, his eyes filled with fear.

  Brad shook his head, not lifting his
face as Sheriff Roberts moved out of the room and down the hall. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed in the stillness his absence had created.

  Sunlight streamed through an open window, casting a warm beam across the room. It seemed oddly contrasted to the cold tension the room had taken on.

  Kate’s eyes were on Brad. He rubbed his face with his hands.

  Finally he spoke in a hushed voice, “I better tell the kids.”

  Chapter Eight

  Later that evening, when the teenagers’ friends had said their good-byes, Becky and Brian sat side by side on the dark leather couch in the family room, their father in the padded chair flanking them, and Kate and Paul on the opposite couch. Judy was next to Becky, filling the circle of seats.

  Becky and Brian didn’t say a word, though the twisted expressions of grief on their faces conveyed their agony at hearing that the police were closing the case, that their mother was presumed dead.

  “But we can keep looking, right? We don’t have to take their word for it that this is the end,” Brian said, desperation in his voice. “This doesn’t have to stop us from searching.”

  Becky leaned into Judy, who wrapped a motherly arm around the teen’s shoulders. Becky’s frame seemed to have gotten thinner in the past few days, and her cheeks were sunken, hollow.

  “The authorities have already looked in the most likely places for her,” Brad said, then blew out a heavy breath.

  “We have to keep looking,” Becky insisted, joining her brother’s argument.

  “I know how you feel,” Brad said. “I feel the same way.” He turned from one teenager to the other. “But the police have a lot more resources than we do. The likelihood...” He sighed. “We’re going to have to face the facts that they could be right. Mom could be gone for good.”

  “No!” Becky was on her feet, shouting at her father. “You can’t say that. Mom isn’t gone! If we hired someone to investigate...” She lifted thoughtful eyes to Kate, and an idea seemed to be forming in her mind. “I’ve seen articles in the paper about you solving other mysteries...”